Congratulations Paul Auster Paul Auster
has won the Prince of Asturias prize, here's speech
the great American poet and writer, who became known to successfully publish "The New York trilogy."
do not know why I dedicate myself to this. If I knew, I probably would not need to. All I can say, and that I am quite sure is that I have felt this need since my earliest adolescence. I mean to write, especially writing as a vehicle to tell stories, imaginary stories that have never happened in what we call the real world. It is certainly an odd way to spend life: locked in a room with pen in hand, hour after hour, day after day, year after year, struggling to put words on pieces of paper in order to give life to what does not exist ... except in the imagination . And why would anyone do that? The only answer I ever occur to you is this: because he has no choice, because you can not make another cosa.Esa need to make, to create, to invent is undoubtedly a fundamental human impulse. But to what end? What purpose does art, and in particular the art of narration, in what we call the real world? None that I can think of at least from the point practical. A book has never food in the stomach of a hungry child. A book has never stopped a bullet into the body of the victim. A book has never prevented a bomb falling on innocent civilians in the midst of war. Some believe that a keen appreciation of art can actually make us better, more just, more moral, more sensitive, more understanding. Perhaps that is true, in some cases, rare and isolated. But do not forget that Hitler started out as an artist. Tyrants and dictators read novels. The murderers in prison read novels. And who can say they do not enjoy books as much as anyone else? In other words, art is useless, at least compared to, say, the work of a plumber, a doctor or an engineer. But what is wrong with futility? Does the lack of practical purpose mean that books and paintings and string quartets are simply a waste of time? Many people think so. But I maintain that the value of art lies in its very uselessness that creating a work of art is what distinguishes us from other creatures that inhabit this planet, and what defines us, in essence, as human beings. Doing something for pure pleasure and beauty of doing it. Consider the effort involved, in the long hours of practice and discipline required to become an accomplished pianist or dancer. All that work and suffering, the sacrifices made to achieve something that is completely and utterly ... inútil.La narrative, however, is in an area somewhat different from the other arts. Its medium is language, and language is something we share with others, common to all of us. As we learn to speak, began a hunger for stories. Those of us who can remember our childhoods will recall how ardently we relished the story he told us in bed when our father or our mother, sat in the shadows next to us with a book and read us a story tale. We who are parents will have no trouble conjuring up the rapt attention in the eyes of our children when we read to them. Why this intense desire to listen? Fairy tales are often cruel and violent, featuring beheadings, cannibalism, grotesque transformations and evil enchantments. One would think this material would be frightening for a kid, but what the child experiences through these stories is precisely an encounter with their own fears and inner torments in an environment that is perfectly safe and protected. Such is the magic of stories: they can transport us to the depths of hell, but they are actually inofensivos.Nos get older, but do not change. We become more sophisticated, but basically we are still as when we were small creatures eager to listen to next story, and the next, and again. For years in all Western countries, have published numerous articles lamenting the fact that they read fewer books, we have entered what some call the "era posliteraria." It may be true, but still has not diminished the universal craving for stories. In the final analysis, the novel is not the only source of stories. Film, television and even comic fiction in industrial quantities, and the public continues engulfing them with great passion. This is due to the need for stories human beings have. The need almost as much as eating, and whatever form they may take-on the printed page or television screen, it would be impossible to imagine life without ellas.De However, in regard to state the novel, the future of the novel, I'm pretty optimistic. Talking does not help much when it comes to books, because there is only one reader, only one reader in each and every single time. What explains the particular power of the novel, and why, in my opinion, will never disappear as a literary form. The novel is an equal collaboration between writer and reader, and is the only place where two strangers can meet on terms of absolute intimacy. I have spent my life in conversations with people I have never seen, with people I will never know, and I hope to continue until the day I stop breathing.
I never wanted to work on something else.
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